


It Takes the Best of Us

by bruhh



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Eventual Smut, Mentions of Rape, Mentions of Suicide, also cussing, depends on how committed i am, if you're sensitive to that, the clownfuckers got me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-01-29 07:23:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12626040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bruhh/pseuds/bruhh
Summary: "I..." she gulped, gripping the hem of her shirt tightly. "I wanted to thank you."The man eyed her curiously, his blue eyes following her every move as she slowly made her way to the bottom of the rotting stairs. As she lifted a foot to begin her ascent, he offered a warning growl, "Careful, dear. Wouldn't want to end up like your...friends.""You won't hurt me," Nora claimed confidently, matching the strange man's gaze."Oh? And why not?" he asked, amused by her statement."Well," she continued, placing her hand on the cracked railing, "you wouldn't have let me go if you had planned to."The clown chuckled, his eyes boring into her own intensely. A catlike grin stretched across his painted face. "Maybe I'm biding my time."





	1. 01

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so first of all, I'd like to say that everything I know of IT is based on the 2017 movie and any info I have read about it from other people on the internet. If there are any inaccuracies in this story, I deeply apologize, but I am trying to keep things as accurate as possible. Second, thank you so much for giving this a read, feedback and love and greatly appreciated. And third, everyone needs to read City Hall by Commala because it is perfect and she is the reason I began writing this in the first place. Thanks so much guys, I hope you enjoy!

A bolt of static filled the car as the dial left the horrendously boring station it had sat on for the last twenty minutes, slender fingers spinning the knob of the radio in search of something more enthralling. The man behind the wheel of the car glanced over to his daughter, her lips pursed as she flipped through various stations, clips of shows and music like a choppy remix of its own in her incessant search. Settling on a catchy pop song, she flopped back in her seat, blowing a strand of her coppery hair from her face. She turned her head slightly, his reflection from the mirror like surface of her sunglasses staring back at him. A small grin pulled at the edges of her mouth as she joked about teaching him about 'presets'. He chuckled at her wit, returning his gaze to the road in front of him, flipping his blinker to turn down a side street.

"Too predictable," he joked, giving his daughter a wink, "like to be surprised with my music."

She scoffed at that, twisting to peer out the window. "Talk shows and commercials aren't really music, Dad."

Robert Lane laughed again, reaching over to pat her knee lovingly. He felt her tense beneath his touch. Mentally kicking himself, he began to retract his hand when she expelled a soft puff of a sigh and slid her hand over his, accepting his small attempt at affection. Relaxing himself, he gave her knee a light squeeze before resuming his ten-and-two hold of the steering wheel.

The move wasn't much, nothing extravagant really, but just enough to get them away from their town, away from their pasts. Her father proposed the move after, to put it frankly, the shit hit the fan. A fresh start, he called it. Go somewhere new, where no one knew your name or your story. And what better place to go than the town where her mother had grown up? While she had to admit the move was a good idea, the town itself seemed suspiciously selfish. Or maybe therapeutic, she wasn't sure. Whatever it was, she was sure it was fueled by the desire to somehow feel more connected with her mother, to live where she grew into herself. The real icing on the cake was the house her father had purchased, one in the same as the home her mother had lived through her youth. Perhaps that's why he chose this dreary little town, so that he could surround them in a home with the memories of an enriched childhood, rather than be suffocated by the trauma of their prison of a house. Either way, it was obvious he was more excited than she.

"You'll love it, Nora! We'll enroll you in the same high school your mom went to, go to the stores she visited. It's like a walk down historic Kimberly Prescott lane! And it's such a cozy little town, where everybody knows everybody!" He beamed as he showed her various pictures of the town. The idea made her frown. _Yeah, and they'll all know when there's fresh meat, too,_ she thought bitterly, although she dared not speak her distaste aloud in fear of ruining this newfound happiness in her father. If anything, she hoped this move did more for him than for her. Lord knows he deserved this, after finding his wife submerged in an overflowing bathtub, an empty bottle of sleeping pills lying on the counter, leaving him with more questions than answers. He had dabbled in the poison of liquor, fighting its full embrace so that he could keep it together enough to raise his ten year old daughter alone. That is, until he found her in that same bathroom six years later, trying to cleanse her skin of the sin a boy had thrust upon her. He had clung to the bottle then.

Still, a nagging concern itched at the back of her mind. "Dad," Nora mumbled, turning in her seat to face him again. He hummed to let her know he was listening, and she continued, "Do you think this is what she would have wanted? I mean, she said that they up and moved all of a sudden, like they couldn't stand living there a second longer. Would she really want us to go there?" She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, nibbling away at the flesh nervously. He turned to look at her, seeing her uncertainty even without seeing her eyes.

Heaving a large sigh, he returned his gaze to the road. "Sweetheart," he began tentatively, "she would have wanted us to be happy. And I really think this is what we need right now."

Nora remained silent as she digested his words, facing forward to watch the road as well. After a while, she leaned back against the headrest, closing her eyes as she muttered a 'you're right'. Not long after that, they arrived at her mother's old house, their new home, and she tried to see it as her mother had years ago. It was cute, she had to admit, with its soft yellow siding and white trim. It was a two story house, and judging by the placement of the second story windows, she assumed the bedrooms were upstairs. The entrance of the house was blocked by an ancient looking screen door, its metal frame rusting in the hinges. Two wooden steps led up to the front porch, its paint chipped slightly from the weather. A one car garage sat attached to the right side of the house, whose door remained closed as her father pulled into the driveway. As she emerged from the vehicle, her feet crunched on the gravel below, and she smiled to herself at the sound. Dare she say it, but the place did seem inviting, warm, even _cozy_. Ha, her dad would get a kick out of that.

She was so captivated by the house that she nearly leapt out of her skin when something wet landed on the tip of her nose. Tilting her head back, she looked skyward, lifting her sunglasses as she squinted at the dark gray clouds rolling overhead. Another drop of rain, this time on her cheek, and she frowned. "I didn't know it was supposed to rain," she called, catching her father's attention.

He glanced up as well, balancing a box in his arms. Giving a small shrug, he grinned over at his daughter. "Guess we'll just have to hurry up and unload these boxes then."

She arched a brow. "Or we could camp out in the house until the storm passes," she suggested, already rounding the car to grab a box herself.

Her dad chuckled. "We can take advantage of the storm by unpacking while we're cooped up inside."

A deafening clap of thunder struck then, nearly causing her to throw her box in alarm. An irritating laugh sounded from the front porch and she scowled at her father. He raised his box and gave her a look as if to say 'better hurry up!' Readjusting her grip, she huffed and stomped her way to her new home.

_Welcome to Derry,_ she thought irritably.

* * *

 

Golden eyes pierced through the darkness, peering out beneath heavy eyelids. A distorted moan escaped its jaws as the residue of rest clung to its being. Slowly, it began to move, twisting and rolling about until it was in an upright position. It stared listlessly at the putrid floor, grime and sewer water and numerous other mystery filth coating the ground beneath it. Gradually its mind returned, offhandedly acknowledging the fact that it had woken from its long rest. Its eyes began to roam, taking in its surroundings. It took a deep breath, and then froze at what it inhaled. A scent, familiar and yet new, faint as it drifted deep below the surface of the town, carried down by the growing winds outside. The smell sent a wave of nostalgia over the creature, as if it had known this scent before, recent, like from a dream...

The memory struck the entity like a match, igniting in its mind as understanding dawned on the being. Stretching its mouth with the beginnings of a grin, the creature began to disjoint its limbs. Bones cracked and groaned as it contorted itself into the form it had last been, shaking itself as the flesh settled into its rightful position. The soft chime of bells rang throughout the sewer system, drowned out by the cacophony of clanging pipes as the rain poured mercilessly above. It inhaled again, the lingering scent that had roused it from sleep quickly dissipating as the stench of rain washed it from the air. But it had caught a whiff, memorized that smell for when it emerged from beneath the town that it terrorized. It would find that smell, and it would devour it.

It was awake.

And it was _starving._


	2. 02

_Drip...drip...drip..._

Groggily, Nora cracked open her eyes, squinting in the darkness that greeted her. Blinking a few times so her vision adjusted to the lack of light, she took in her surroundings. She was definitely not in her bedroom, that was for sure. She appeared to be in some type of tunnel, its arched walls covered in grime that was most likely the source of the foul smell assaulting her nostrils. She wrinkled her nose in disgust, pulling herself up in a sitting position. Her back felt damp, and upon further inspection, she realized she had been lying in a small puddle of what she could only describe as gray water. Nora fought the urge to vomit, shutting her eyes for a moment to calm her stomach. When she opened her eyes again, she gave herself a quick once over to make sure she was still in one piece. All seemed to check out, including the attire she wore, a pair of sleep shorts and an old T-shirt from a homecoming game at her old school that she had fallen asleep in the night before. _Alright,_ she thought to herself, pushing herself up onto her feet, _then how did I get down here?_

_Drip...drip...drip..._

Somewhere, water dripped in a continuous rhythm, leading Nora to believe she was in some type of sewer system. The smell certainly made it seem like the right assumption. Peering behind her, she noted the tunnel was blocked by some rusted bars, trapping her inside like a cage. Forward then, and she began trekking through the tunnel in search of an exit. Her bare feet slapped wetly on the stone floor, the sound echoing around her as she ventured further in the sewer, joining the constant drip of water in the distance.

_Drip...drip...drip..._

God, that was annoying.

She walked for what felt like hours, the never-ending tunnel stretching on for miles. Just when she thought she would lose her mind from the march and that God-awful _drip-drip-drip-_ ing, an opening appeared. Her heart leapt excitedly at the sight, her feet picking up their pace to reach the promise of an escape. There was a bit of a drop off, so she crouched down before hopping out to the floor below. When her feet smacked onto an equally putrid floor, Nora gave a quick scan of the area she had just entered. The tunnel had led her to a large, open space, the center of the sewers it seemed. Multiple openings lined the surrounding walls, all of which led to different tunnels in a complex maze of sewer pipes and walkways. And here is where they all connected, spilling their waste down to the floor below. The floor that she was currently standing on. Barefoot.

Yeah, she was probably going to throw up.

A crumbling mess of a well sat off in the corner of the room, seeming very much out of place down here, but she figured there were more concerning matters at hand to worry about. Especially the mountain of junk looming in the center of the space. That's the only way she could describe it, a mountain of random items that had seen better days. A rusted tricycle, a collection of stained and moldy stuffed animals, frisbees, balls of various sports, some deflated and some simply caked in filth. A stained yellow raincoat hung somewhere halfway up the monstrosity, the right sleeve ripped off just below the shoulder. Nora frowned as she noted the size of the coat was that of a child. In fact, all of these items seemed to once belong to children, forgotten over the years that they sat in the pile before her. Her brow furrowed as she noticed an odd stain on the ripped sleeve, stepping closer to get a better look. A thick, brown substance matted along the jagged edges of the fabric came into view, and with a sinking feeling in her stomach, Nora realized that it didn't look like mud.

Something moved beyond the mountain, catching her attention and drawing her eyes upward. A gasp echoed in the cavernous room, her hand flying up to cover her mouth in shock. High above the tower of salvaged children's items were dozens of children, suspended in the air as if they were hanging by strings. Their faces were all tilted upwards, eyes vacant as if they had been hypnotized. The most horrific of the entire scene was the varying stages of decomposition the kids had succumbed to, gray skin turning a sickly green as rot ate away to the bone, exposing parts of the children's ribs and skulls. The entire left side of one kid's face had completely worn away, leaving nothing but the decaying bone visible. Her stomach twisted nauseatingly at the sight, her body breaking out in a cold sweat, her hands becoming clammy and her hairline tingling as her head swam with the sudden onslaught of lightheadedness. Her eyes darted across the floating children, panic creeping under her skin.

A squeal broke the silence as she locked eyes with one of the kids. It was a girl around her age, her blonde hair coming undone from the messy braid that lay between her shoulder blades. Her bloodshot eyes glared down at her, the piercing blue of her irises like ice as they watched her with displeasure. She was missing her left hand, and upon further inspection she noticed the portion of her left leg below the knee was absent as well. Nora was frozen in place, terror rooting her feet to the ground. The girl's lips, corpse blue, were moving, and Nora realized she was speaking, although her voice did not reach her ears.

Swallowing around the lump in her throat, Nora slowly retracted her hands from her mouth and spoke shakily, "Wh-What?"

The girl's lips stopped, pressed together in a thin line as she scrutinized her. A deep sadness overcame her face, tears welling in her blue eyes. She opened her mouth again. "You shouldn't be here," she rasped, her voice scratchy and raw.

A jingling sound caught her ears, drawing her eyes from the floating girl. She squinted into the darkness, vaguely making out a shadow in the distance. The longer she stared at it, the more defined it became. A silhouette of a tall figure, abnormally tall, loomed behind the mountain. Suddenly a pair of glowing yellow eyes broke through the darkness, leering at her menacingly. Nora gasped and instinctively took a step back. Her heart nearly skipped a beat as the figure took a predatory step forward, causing that jingling sound again, like a dozen tiny bells. Her breath caught in her throat as it took another step towards her, its arms swinging to the side in a morbid sort of dance. She took another step back, her hand clutching at the fabric of her tee over her heart, her breathing coming in short gasps. The figure hunched over then in a sort of bow, its yellow eyes never leaving her, it didn't even blink. There was a torturous moment where it paused, watching her as she stared back anxiously. The suspense of the moment had her heart thumping almost painfully in her chest.

In the blink of an eye, the figure leapt forward, sprinting towards her at an alarming pace, all the while the chime of tiny bells echoing in the vastness of the sewer. Nora yelped in shock, scrambling backwards until her backside collided with the collapsing well, her fingers gripping the slick stone in terror. She watched helplessly as the figure gained on her, eyes wide in alarm.

"This isn't real, this isn't real," she began to chant to herself. "It's just a dream, it's not real, not real, just a dream." The jingling bells rang in her head as it neared, its yellow eyes gluing her to the floor, unable to move. It reached a hand out, claws extending forward, ready to grab her when she shut her eyes. A hand grabbed her from behind, causing her to gasp, her eyes snapping open as she was yanked backwards into the well. She was pulled just out of reach of the figure as it swiped at her, falling against the ledge as she fell, an angered growl following her down, down, down.

The sensation of falling woke her just before she landed on her bedroom floor, her body crashing into the carpet with a dull thud. Immediately her limbs screamed from the contact, pulsing in pain from the fall. Nora paid no mind, however, as the aftereffects of her dream slowly faded as consciousness began to creep in. Her heart still pounded in her chest, her breathing coming in heavy rasps. She carefully pulled herself up, leaning back against the side of her bed as she looked around her bedroom, looking for any sign of realness of her dream. Finding nothing abnormal with her surroundings, she heaved a large sigh, dropping her head in her hands and rubbing her eyes, trying to rid her skin of the sleep that still clung to her. "What _was_ that?" she breathed, slapping her cheeks.

A gentle knock sounded on her door, creaking open a beat later, her father's concerned face peering in at her. He raised a brow at her form huddled on the floor and asked if she was alright.

Nora shook her head, giving a small dismissing wave. "Bad dream, fell out of bed," she explained, smiling at her dad. "I'm good now."

He let out a snort of a laugh. "Alright, well I got donuts downstairs if you're hungry," he informed, shutting the door behind him as he retreated from her bedroom.

She sighed, pulling herself up and stretching her sore limbs. Maybe a shower will wash away the residue of that dream. Grabbing some clothes from a box she neglected to unpack, she padded into the hallway to the adjacent bathroom, shutting the door behind her with a soft _click._ Flipping on the light and the fan, she set her clothes on the counter and drew back the shower curtain. She turned on the water and let it run to heat up, stepping in front of the mirror above the sink to brush through the knots in her rust colored hair. As she brushed, she watched herself in the mirror, jade green eyes staring back at her. She took in her appearance, the porcelain glow of her skin, the smattering of freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose, which sloped downward to a slight upturn by the end. Her gaze traveled down the cupid's bow of her top lip, tracing the curve of her bottom, noting the way they pursed in a constant pout. Rosy cheeks, a heart shaped face. The spitting image of a doll.

_Such a good girl, Dollface._

Shutting her eyes, she turned from the mirror and ripped off her clothes, stepping under the stinging spray of water and flinging the curtain closed.

After showering and getting dressed, Nora descended the stairs, her fingers weaving her wet hair into a braid. Reaching the bottom, she rounded the corner and entered the kitchen, greeting her dad as she plopped into the chair next to him, flinging open the box of donuts. Locating a jelly filled donut, she shoved it in her mouth for a bite and eyed her father, who was flipping through a People magazine. She raised a brow when he glanced over the top of the booklet at her.

"Was in the mailbox," he muttered, taking a bite of his own donut, a simple glazed one. He chewed a couple times and swallowed, gesturing behind him. "Got you a chocolate milk," he mentioned, drawing her attention to the counter. She nodded and got up to grab it, shaking it before twisting off the cap. After a few gulps, she sat back in her seat and continued to nibble on her breakfast. Her father spoke up again. "I thought we'd take a trip into town, maybe meet some people." He chuckled at her scowl. "Or we could just do some grocery shopping, avoiding eye contact and conversation until we are safely back home."

"Inside good, outside bad," she deadpanned, voice muffled around her donut. He laughed again and shut the magazine, sliding it over to her, which she gratefully accepted, flipping through with interest.

"Alright, well I'll go make a list while you finish up. We gotta get back by one if you want the cable set up," he called as he exited the kitchen. At that, she stuffed the rest of her donut in her mouth, washing it down with the last of her milk. She ran upstairs to grab a pair of sneakers and followed her dad out the front door.

As the screen door slammed shut behind them, she froze on the porch, her eyes focused just beyond her father's silver 2001 Nissan Terrano. Noticing his daughter had stopped, he turned to glance back at her. When she didn't acknowledge him, he followed her gaze, his own hazel eyes landing on their mailbox. A single red balloon floated above the box, a white ribbon tethering it to the post it was tied around. White airbrushed text sat on the face of the balloon. 'I Love Derry', it read. He turned back to face his daughter, a smile on his face.

"Neighbors seem friendly, a little 'welcome to the neighborhood'," he called, continuing toward the driver's side of his car, unlocking it as he climbed in. The slam of the car door broke her of her trance, and she jogged after him, climbing in the passenger's seat and fastening her seatbelt, eyes drawn to the mailbox like a magnet. They pulled out of their driveway and took off down the road, Nora's eyes glued to the red balloon in the rearview mirror the whole time. It swayed in the breeze as they left, waving at her mockingly.

She didn't understand it, but the balloon left a queasiness in her stomach, an unsettling sense of unease from the sight of the bright red latex. The gesture made her feel less than welcome. If anything, it made her want to turn in the opposite direction and run like hell. The instinct was irrational, it wouldn't make any sense if she tried to explain it to her father, so oblivious to the underlying message within the balloon. It wasn't a welcome gift at all.

It was a warning.


	3. 03

Vanessa Franklin grinned at her, a shadow taking place between her two front teeth. Her grainy photo hung on the grocery store's bulletin board, surrounded by various other flyers regarding the town's current events. Nora paid them no mind; how could she, when spelled in black, bulky letters, the word 'MISSING' sat ominously above Vanessa's darling face? Her thumbnail sat victim to her incessant chewing, her eyes mapping every detail of the girl's face the faded paper had to offer, from her wide-gapped, buck tooth smile to the deep set dimples rooted in her chipmunk cheeks. She couldn't tell if that was a mole on her forehead or a blotch of ink resulting from the probably ancient copier the police department owned, considering just how small this town was. The grocery store didn't even have automatic doors.

After analyzing the little girl's face, her gaze drifted downward to the list of numbers at the bottom of the page, memorizing the phone number of the Derry Police Department. As her eyes made their way back upward, she caught a familiar set of digits on another flyer, this one covered mostly by a sheet detailing this year's Halloween festival. Removing her thumb from her mouth, Nora reached up to pull back the pink paper, revealing another missing poster beneath it. She was about to let the page fall back down when she realized the letters didn't spell out Vanessa Franklin, instead forming the name Harold Hughes. She ripped the page back up, pulling it further up to see the chubby face of what looked to be a three-year-old boy, his curly hair falling all over his forehead and almost covering his almond-shaped eyes. Suddenly the police department's phone number began to appear beneath several more flyers, all printed with different names and faces of missing children. Nora took a shaky step back, the paper she held falling back down as she regarded the bulletin board nervously, her hands reaching unconsciously for her hair.

"Nora!" Her father's voice caught her attention, tearing her gaze from the suffocating amount of missing child posters. He was waving her over, standing at the register as the cashier, an older woman who looked like she had been working there since they opened, slowly scanned their items. Nora made her way over, pulling the metal cart round to start loading the bags the cashier had set aside for them. "You want a candy bar or anything?"

She eyed the wall of chocolate, frowning at the various wrappers. She shook her head, grabbing a Milky Way when her dad asked for one. "Um," Nora spoke up, glancing at the cashier, who's nametag read 'Rita', "I was looking at your bulletin board and I saw that there are a lot of missing child posters." Rita paused, a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch raised above the scanner. Her eyes peered down at her, causing Nora to shrink away, reaching for another bag.

Rita gave a hum and scanned the box of cereal. "I knew you two weren't from around these parts," she began, shaking her head slightly. "Although most everybody that passes through knows the rumors. They say this town is cursed, every 27 years children go missin'. Just disappear." The checkout got oddly quiet then, the only sound being the beeps of scanned items and the rustle of bags. A quick glance around told Nora that the other patrons grew uncomfortable, avoiding eye contact and trying to get their groceries and leave as fast as possible. It was clear they were all familiar with this story. "No one can really understand why. Never any leads, no suspects, no motives. It's like the kids just up and left, although no one can really explain why a toddler would just run away," Rita continued, either unaware of the tension in the air, or she simply didn't care. As she finished scanning their last item and told her father the total, she turned to Nora with a serious look on her face. "Lil' Nessa disappeared last night, first of the season," she nodded toward the photocopied picture on the board. "Now normally they ain't as old as ya, but I'll still warn ya to be careful around here, especially at night."

Nora gulped and nodded, accepting the last bag the seasoned cashier handed to her. "Have they ever found any of the kids?" she asked, although she wasn't sure if she really wanted to know the answer.

Rita handed over their receipt. "Once in a blue moon," she replied, a grim look on her face. "Never alive." She paused, as if debating whether to elaborate. "Not always in one piece, neither."

Nora couldn't get out of that building quick enough. She raced to the car, roughly tossing bags in the trunk much to her father's chagrin, and stomped to the passenger side door, slamming it as she climbed in. As much as that woman's story unnerved her, she was beginning to feel more furious than scared. Mass child disappearances aren't just something that gets swept under the rug, at least not outside of this town. There was no way her father didn't know about it when planning their move. When he eventually crawled into the driver's seat, silently turning the key in the ignition, she snapped, "Did you know about this?"

He took a deep breath, fingers gripping the steering wheel, his eyes cast out the windshield. "I... may have skimmed over that as I was doing research on the house..."

Nora scoffed in disbelief. " _Skimmed?_ You don't just _skim_ over the fact that children just... just... _vanish_ in a town! Especially when it happens so often, and so many!" A sound of rage ripped through her as she threw her hands in the air. "I mean, what if that was me? What happens when my picture is pinned up on that wall? You didn't even stop to think maybe it wasn't the best idea to bring your daughter to a town where dozens of kids go missing every 30 years?"

"Of course I did!" her father countered, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "But dammit, Nora, they were all _kids!_ Hardly any of those reports listed anyone over the age of fourteen, and I thought 'well Nora is practically an adult, she's well aware of stranger danger', so I thought it wouldn't be a problem!" He turned to her, his eyes blazing. "Am I wrong to think that? Am I wrong to assume that you wouldn't run off with some guy offering candy in a van?"

She glowered at her dad, voice low and icy as she spoke through gritted teeth, "People don't get kidnapped that way, Dad. Adults get taken, too, if they're not stronger than their attacker."

There was a tense moment where they both glared at the other, the air thick inside the confined space of the vehicle. Like always, though, her father relented, his expression softening as he sighed. He ran a hand through his graying hair. "Nora, I just wanted to take you to the place your mother grew up. I thought it would be good for us," he explained, leaning back in his seat.

A more relaxed frown settled over her mouth, her hard expression slipping as well. She dropped her gaze, wringing her hands in her lap. "I just wish you would have told me," she whispered.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Nora Bora," he apologized, reaching out to her. Thinking better of it, he let his hand fall to the center console. "I didn't want you to be scared about moving here. Besides, I know you can take care of yourself, that you're smarter than to just follow someone you don't know."

She glanced up at him, meeting his pleading gaze. Her eyes dropped to his hand between them. Her own, smaller hand lay atop his in a gesture of forgiveness, and she gifted him with a small smile. "Okay, Dad."

* * *

 

Her anger returned when she spotted the red balloon still tied to their mailbox. It taunted her as they unloaded the car and brought their groceries inside, taking items out of their bags and placing them in their respective locations around the kitchen. Once they were finished, she located a pair of scissors and marched outside, snipping the white string and watching triumphantly as the balloon drifted upward, a gust of wind carrying it off into the distance, away from their house. A smile twitched at her lips as she realized it was a gorgeous day out, the air warm enough for her to leave in just her flannel shirt and leggings. The sky was blue and littered with small cotton balls of clouds, which floated by leisurely. When she headed back inside to replace the scissors, she informed her father that she was going out for a walk and would return when the cable was on and they could eat lunch together.

While she didn't much care for the social life, Nora very much enjoyed the outdoors. To be honest, she hated being cooped up inside the house all day, and she cherished days like today, where the weather was nice and the sun shone bright. She strolled down their neighborhood, soon finding herself turning out of their cul de sac and making her way down a more abandoned road. The asphalt soon turned to gravel, the crunch of her steps like music to her ears. It occurred to her that there was only one house down this street, and from the looks of it, it seemed as though no one had lived in that house for years. She slowed as she passed it, observing its features. Its wooden frame looked as if it had caught fire once and had never been replaced, the charred wood giving it a shadowy appearance. What was left of its broken windows was caked in dust, making it impossible to see inside the house. Oddly enough, the front door stood in one piece, still attached to its hinges and tightly shut. Yellow grass surrounded the house, reaching the height of her waist, a few tall sunflowers perched along the side of the house. A run down fence lined the decrepit yard, opening up to the walkway and decaying front porch steps. A rusted, dented up mailbox was staked into the ground in front of the yard, leaning precariously to the right. The property definitely had a high level of creepiness, which would explain its state of abandonment.

Despite its garish appearance, Nora couldn't help but feel a sort of connection with the house. A looming shadow in Derry, Maine, the imperfection in an otherwise perfect town. Just like her, it was the odd one here, something that didn't quite belong, but remained nonetheless.

She considered the house a moment longer before continuing on, ready to get back to her pleasant stroll. It was short lived, however, when she made her way back into town, spotting a group of teenagers around her age loitering outside the pharmacy. Two girls, both equally blonde and both equally pink, laughing a little too loudly at the expense of the boy they were with. He towered over the girls, his thick arms crossed confidently over his broad chest, a smug smirk adorning his lips. His black hair was styled in a way that reminded Nora of a shark's fin, his brown eyes gleaming mischievously as he talked to the blondes. Everything about him screamed predator.

And just as a predator would, he immediately noticed when prey was nearby.

Nora froze when his eyes peered over the top of one girl's golden head, landing on her. They roamed her form, raking over her body in such a perverse way she felt exposed despite being fully dressed. The smirk on his face contorted into a wolfish grin. Alarm bells went off in her head, told her to turn the other way and run, and yet she stood paralyzed as he pushed himself off the side of the building and brushed past the girls he was previously engaged in conversation with. Their own gazes landed on her, annoyed glares pointed her way as they reluctantly followed closely behind him. He stalked toward her like he was on a hunt, and she very much felt like she was being hunted. Her heart pounded so loudly in her chest that she was sure they would hear it. Once he was standing before her, he eyed her up and down again before he spoke.

"Heard there was a new kid in town," he began, placing his hands on his hips, "would that happen to be you, Red?"

Heat flushed her cheeks at the pet name. "Uh, yeah," she mumbled shakily, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. God, when did they get so sweaty?

"Well a newbie like you oughtta have a gentleman like me show you around," the boy offered, flashing her his pearly white teeth. All she saw were fangs.

"N-No, that's alright," Nora began to protest, giving a halfhearted smile. "It's a small enough town."

His grin only grew. "Aw, it's big enough for the kids 'round here to get lost."

Blonde Number One snickered behind her hand, drawing Nora's gaze toward her briefly. The morbid joke didn't go unnoticed on her part. "Really," she tried again, returning her attention to the boy, "I can manage on my own."

"Careful, Jeremy," Blonde Number Two piped up, taking a step forward and placing a hand on his arm. "You know what they say about redheads." She grinned wickedly at her, the term 'mean girl' crossing her mind.

The boy she called Jeremy chuckled, never breaking eye contact with Nora. "What, you mean how they suck your soul?" he asked, amused.

"She'll suck something, that's for sure," Blonde Number One giggled, taking her place on his other side.

The tips of her ears grew hot as embarrassment set in, her fingers itching to tug at her hair. Her skin crawled as Jeremy's brown eyes snaked down her body again, rising slower than before when he chimed in, "Now I wouldn't mind letting her suck whatever she wanted."

She instinctively took a step back, trying to widen the distance between them. Her heart drumming so loudly in her ears, she was afraid they might burst. Fire lapped at the skin of her face, turning her cheeks a noticeable shade of red. Her body began to shake nervously, drawing a fake sound of dismay from Blonde Number Two.

"Aw, you guys are scaring the poor thing," she booed, giving a small pout.

Before they could spew any other lewd comments at her, she sputtered a rushed excuse and backpedaled so quickly the world spun as she took off in the direction she had come. As she fled, she could hear Jeremy taunt, "Careful, that's where the Neibolt house is! They say it's haunted. Wouldn't want you to _disappear!_ "

The sound of the blondes' cackling laughter rang in her ears as she darted away.

Nora ran all the way to the abandoned house, collapsing along the old fence as she caught her breath. She stood there for what felt like ages, her forehead pressed firmly against her knuckles as she tried to calm her racing heart. Eventually the quaking in her body subsided, her heart began to beat at a normal pace, and her breaths slowed to deep inhales and exhales. Their voices faded from her ears, the encounter receding to the very depths of her memory. Releasing a large huff, she raised her head to stare at the so called 'Neibolt house'. She regarded it seriously, replaying what the boy, Jeremy, said.

"Haunted, huh?" she mumbled, crossing her arms along the top of the fence and leaning on them. The house remained still, a blemish on the cheery town. Its tall grass swayed languidly in the small breeze that passed. Nora hummed as the wind weaved its way through her hair, watching the worn down house with empathy. "That makes two of us, then."


	4. 04

A week had passed without much incident, although everyday a new face of a missing child appeared on the television, their beady eyes burning into her skin as she passed their posters on the street. The lack of concern was revolting, every new report like a pesky ad to the people of Derry. Even the parents of said missing children didn't seem to care, acting as if the disappearance of their child was as much of a nuisance as misplacing their keys. Nora learned to keep her mouth shut, her lips bruising from how tightly they were pressed together. The topic of the missing children was taboo, offended and outraged glares turned toward you if you even uttered the words 'missing child'. Besides the dirty looks out in public, the subject only caused tension between her and her father, the betrayal she felt by his bringing her here resurfacing with every new face that flashed across their television screen.

While tensions were high at home, going out wasn't much better. As it turns out, rumors spread like wildfire in the small town, rumors against her. That shark, Jeremy, and the Blonde Twins began to pass around the very false information regarding how loose the new kid was. She wasn't sure when the idea that redheads were sluts originated, but now the whole town had her labeled as a whore. Lucky her, only a month before school started.

Nora stepped onto her front porch, the screen door squealing as it shut behind her. A too large button up draped over her shoulders, denim cutoff shorts hugging her hips, and her aviator sunglasses perched atop her nose, she stretched her limbs like a cat in the sun. The day was beautiful, the sky clear and blue, the air just on the cusp of being too warm. Perfect for a swim in the river that ran through the town. Hiking her backpack higher up on her shoulder, Nora made her way around the side of the house to grab her bike, a rusty mint green one that her father had bought for her when she was thirteen. Flicking the kickstand up, she pushed off and began the relaxing ride to the river. The wind rushed through her hair, whipping the long tresses around her face in a wild frenzy. She reveled in the feel, the warm air like a sweet caress on her skin. She weaved through her neighborhood, pedaling down every abandoned road she knew of to avoid the judging eyes of the residents of this awful town, cutting through fields and woods to keep her distance from the busy streets of the local shops. Eventually the sound of running water filled her ears, the distinct, musty smell of river water flowing into her nose as she neared her destination. She skidded to a halt in the dirt, locking the kickstand in place as she stepped off of the bike. She stepped up to the edge of the river, watching the water lazily pass by. It had a greenish hue to it, although she didn't mind; it's not like she was expecting clear water after all. With a grin on her face, she turned around and retreated a few paces, dropping her bag on the dirt floor and squatting beside it. Rummaging through its contents, she retrieved a beach towel and laid it out beside her, then withdrew her phone and a portable speaker she had packed along with it. Connecting the device with her phone, she opened her music player and set it to shuffle. As the beginning base lines of Bastille's Bad Blood poured out from the speaker in her hand, she set the electronics down on the towel and stood up, shrugging off her button up and shorts to reveal a mismatched teal and black bikini. She kicked off her flip flops and skipped over to the water, testing its temperature with her foot. Sucking in a breath, she braced herself as she dove in.

A squeal echoed around her as the cold reached her midsection, followed by giddy laughter. She made her way further into the river, feeling the smooth rocks beneath her feet as she waded in the cold water. Figuring she might as well get it over with, she took in a breath, held her nose, and submerged her head beneath the surface. She resurfaced a moment later, pushing back her hair, droplets of water spotting her sunglasses. She began to hum along to the song playing behind her and she leant back to float on her back, gazing up at the blue sky. Her eyes drifted shut, allowing the small current to drift her down stream.

_That's right, Dollface. Just lay there and take it._

Her eyes opened, a frown settling over her mouth. She let her hips sink, realigning her body in an upright position. The irritating intro to some outdated pop song floated towards her, deepening her frown as she turned to eye her phone. She couldn't remember why she had downloaded that song, but she knew that she needed to skip it before it drove her insane. Huffing in irritation, Nora began to trudge her way over to her phone, her arms pushing back the water as if that would split the river and create a path for her. As her arm swung backward, her hand came in contact with something horrifyingly soft, the tendrils of the unidentified substance tangling around her fingers and causing an alarmed yelp to bubble out of her throat. Her heart pounded in her chest. It felt suspiciously like hair, the swirling fibers brushing along her thigh as the current swept it away, unraveling from her fingers like a farewell with the promise of meeting again. The dizzying thought that it was a missing child's _body_ that had floated past made her nearly lose her balance on the slick rocks below, but when she chased after it, swinging her arms beneath the water's surface to find that hair-like substance again, she came up empty handed. Chalking it up to her paranoia and apparently vivid imagination, Nora continued her way to her phone to shut off the annoying song.

After wringing her hair of any water that clung to it and tying it up into a ponytail, she turned on some soft indie music and laid back on her towel, deciding that sunbathing was probably the best option for now. With her body stretched out, her arms raised above her head, one knee pointed upward, she let her eyes drift shut once more, melting into the soft towel. A soft breeze whistled through the trees, teasing her skin and raising goosebumps in its wake.

Raucous laughter shattered the peaceful facade, snapping her eyes open and bringing a scowl to her face. With an annoyed groan, she draped an arm across her forehead. _So much for my relaxing day out_ , she thought bitterly as she began to sit up. It was when a familiar voice called out ' _hey, it's Big Red!_ ' that panic slammed into her gut. Her head spun in the direction of the voice, her wide eyes landing on the grinning face of Jeremy. He was flanked by two smaller boys, one thin and lanky with a mischievous glint in his eye, his platinum blonde hair fashioned into gelled spikes, the other a heavy set boy with a nervous expression on his face and worry lines wrinkling his forehead, his brown curls peeking out beneath the baseball cap he wore. It took her a moment to realize they were quickly approaching her, her brain finally screaming at her to _move_. She scrambled to stand up, snatching her button up to cover herself and stuffing her towel, phone, and speaker in her backpack, plucking her flip flops from the dirt and turning toward her bike.

A large hand wrapped around her upper arm, twirling her back around to come face to face with the boy who reminded her of a shark, his pearly fangs glinting in the sunlight. "Hey, where ya goin'? My buddies wanted to meet you," he spoke, an undertone of warning in his tone. "It'd be rude not to introduce yourself."

Her skin prickled beneath his hold, even through the layer of fabric that separated them. She turned her frightened gaze toward the two boys behind Jeremy, the chubby one avoiding eye contact while the skinny one smirked at her, his eyes traveling down her exposed stomach and thighs. His eyes lingered on her chest, following to rapid rise and fall of her cleavage, still speckled with droplets of water from her dip in the river. She quickly returned her focus on the one who currently held her captive. He watched her expectantly. "I-I..." she swallowed, trying to find her voice. "I really should be headed back home..."

Jeremy gave her a fake pout, _tsk_ ing at her response. "Aw, c'mon, we just got here." His fingers tightened their grip on her arm, subtly pulling her closer to him. "We thought maybe we could all have a little fun together," he smirked, then tutted softly. "Lets get these offa ya. I wanna see those pretty eyes of yours." Jeremy reached toward her face, and she froze, her body going rigid in his grasp. He grabbed her sunglasses, pulling them away from her face, his fingertips brushing along her cheekbone in the process. She hissed, flinching away from him as if his touch had burned her, realizing a little too late her mistake. Reluctantly, she chanced a look at Jeremy. He gazed down at her in shock, her sunglasses poised above her head in his hand.

Very slowly, a devilish grin spread across his face.

Nora wrenched her arm free and darted off in the opposite direction, quickly mounting her bike and pedaling as fast as she could. Her heart pounded thunderously in her chest, her breathing coming in short rasps as her legs pumped the bicycle faster through the woods, taking the familiar paths of back roads and fields. Her shirt billowed out behind her like a cape as she sped away. She heard shouting in the distance, risking a glance behind her and immediately wishing she hadn't. Of course they had their own bikes, their longer legs pushing them faster as they gained on her, the distance between them shrinking drastically. A terrified whine clawed its way out of her as she faced forward, pleading her legs to speed up.

When she reached a gravel road and a familiar building lurked in the distance, a cry of relief escaped her. As she neared the house, she leapt off her bike, abandoning it as she raced past the old fence, clambering up the rotting porch steps and bursting through the aged door. The people of Derry avoided this house like the plague, filling their children's heads with the idea that it was haunted, a dangerous and scary place to go. Surely they wouldn't follow her in here.

Just as the thought entered her mind, a brute force slammed into her back, knocking the wind out of her and smashing her chin into the wooden floor, her teeth sinking painfully into her tongue, the metallic taste of blood blooming in her mouth instantly. Her lungs inhaled dust and rot as they struggled to find oxygen, the weight pinning her to the floor pressing her ribs forcefully into the splintering wood below. Her eyes darted around the room frantically, searching for any sort of weapon she could use. Her gaze landed on the olive green tint of her backpack, which had been thrown several feet in front of her, way out of her reach. She heaved beneath the hulking mass above her, a choked sob hiccupping from her as she was suddenly rolled onto her back, her arms pinned above her head, a weight settling over her abdomen. Jeremy towered above her, straddling her waist as he held her down. Her skin burned beneath his touch. The sharp point of a shark's tooth dangled above her face, twirling in the air on the thin rope that looped around his neck. Sheer terror and panic gripped her racing heart and she began to buck and kick, screaming as loud as she could in hopes of someone hearing.

"Dammit, get in here! Ro, Spade, help me hold her down!" he spat at the two left standing in the doorway. Immediately the blonde rushed inside, kneeling by her head and taking her arms from Jeremy. The other stayed put, apprehension flashing in his eyes. "What the fuck, Ro?!" Jeremy shouted, glaring at the pudgy boy.

The one known as Ro squirmed in place at the doorway. "I don't know, man, they say this place is haunted," he squeaked, rubbing the back of his neck, his hand glistening with the sweat that collected there from their chase.

"Jesus, Ro, they tell that shit to kids to scare them from wandering out here!" Jeremy huffed in irritation, twisting his upper body to face the reluctant boy. "Now get your fat ass in here and help me and Spade hold this bitch down!"

Another strangled cry emanated from Nora, tears spilling down her cheeks and she fought helplessly against her restraints. Ro locked eyes with her, a defeated expression shadowing his features as his eyes seemed to apologize. Hesitantly, he crossed the threshold of the house, his heavy footsteps thudding against the aging floor, every wooden board groaning in protest under his weight. He silently settled on the opposite side as Spade, taking her right arm and holding it down. He avoided her gaze after that.

"Good," Jeremy breathed, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. He peered down at her, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Now what's with the tears, Red? Don't you wanna play with us?"

Nora screamed again, thrashing beneath the boys with all her might. The sudden sting on her cheek shut her up, the sharp slap echoing in the quiet house. The anger in Jeremy's eyes caused her to shrink into herself. A fearful shiver began to quake her body.

He snatched her jaw roughly, forcing her to look up at him as he leaned in close. "Now listen here you little slut," he snarled, his voice low, "you're gonna shut that pretty mouth of yours or I'm gonna shove something in it to shut you up myself, got it?" With wide, wet eyes, she nodded as best she could in his grasp, her skin screaming from all the physical contact. He gave her a sickly sweet smile. "Good girl. Now you're gonna stay quite while you lay there and take it," he commanded, his fingers tugging at the waistband of her bottoms.

A sudden creak exploded in the silence of the house, causing the four to freeze. Hope flashed in Nora's eyes, however upon seeing it, Jeremy thrust his hand over her mouth, eliciting a squeak from her. He peered down the hallway, squinting at the inky blackness that filled the area. Sweat began to pool beneath Ro's hands, causing his moist skin to slide along Nora's wrist grotesquely. Jeremy and Spade locked eyes above her, Jeremy nodding toward the hallway.

"Go see what it is, Spade," he ordered.

The thin boy nodded, handing Ro her other wrist as he pushed himself up off the dirty floor. He pulled a switchblade from his pocket, stalking toward the hallway cautiously. Nora could only imagine the things he would have done with that thing to her. The three of them watched as Spade made his way into the hallway, its shadows swallowing his figure until they could no longer see him. An excruciating silence followed, setting their nerves on edge. Time seemed to slow, each agonizing second like torture as they sat in anticipation. After a full sixty seconds, they finally heard something, a sound that sent chills down their spines.

A scream.

Ro began to panic, his breathing speeding up as he turned to Jeremy, demanding to know just what the hell _was_ that? He stayed focused on the hallway, his brow furrowed as Ro and Nora watched on in horror. When Spade failed to emerge from the shadows, Jeremy cursed and pushed up off of Nora, stalking over to the hallway. He turned to look back at the two on the floor, who stared back with matching wide eyes. He pointed at Nora, his gaze locked with the boy who held her down. "Keep her still," he commanded before stepping into the dark hall himself.

The pair stared after him with bated breath, waiting in anticipation. Silence surrounded them once again, an unsettling quiet that only increased Nora's heartbeat. Ro shifted above her, his slick hands sliding all over her arms, smearing her skin with his sweat. She heard him gulp nervously, his breathing ragged. His eyes were glued to the hall, searching the darkness for any sign of the other two boys that had entered.

A loud bang caused the duo to jump, the thunderous sound coming from somewhere deeper in the house, followed by Jeremy's voice crying out, "What the fuck!"

Ro scrambled up then, tripping over his own feet as he pulled Nora along with him. He shouted at her to run when she failed to move, shoving her toward the front door with haste. Her legs finally caught the memo and began to run, propelling her in the direction of the exit, her freedom, her heart sputtering in her chest. A shout, followed by a thud, caught her attention, her feet skidding to a halt as she glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes landed on Ro, the large boy sprawled out on his stomach, his chubby fingers clawing at the wooden floor as something dragged him into the murky darkness of the hall. They locked eyes, his pleading for help. Despite her better judgment, Nora knew she couldn't just leave him here to be dragged off by God only knows what.

She made a U-turn and sprinted toward him, grabbing his outstretched hands and pulling with all her might. Whatever had the other half of him was stronger, and she soon found herself being pulled along with him into the hallway. A deep growl rumbled from the shadows, causing her heart to skip a beat and eliciting a shriek of terror from Ro. Tears streamed down his face as he begged her to not let go, to not leave him here, to _save_ him, although Nora was beginning to realize that wasn't possible. Already her grip was slipping from the slick sweat that had built up between their palms, and whatever had a hold on his legs was definitely gaining the upper hand.

"Please! Don't let go, don't let it take me!" the boy cried, his face bright red and glistening with his terrified tears.

"I-I can't... you're slipping!" she cried back, and just like the snap of a rubber band, his hands slid from hers and he was pulled back into the dark hall, his screams cut short as whatever got him delivered the final blow. The force of losing her grip sent her falling back onto her backside, her hands flying out behind her to keep her upright. She breathed heavily from the exertion, wide eyes peering into the inky blackness in front of her. A disgustingly wet sound was coming from where Ro was pulled in to, sending gruesome images flashing behind her eyelids.

Suddenly, a pair of glowing yellow eyes pierced through the shadows, locking on to her own green gaze. Her breath caught in her throat, the thought of being eyelevel with a wild animal steeling her bones in place and rooting her to the floor. The creature watched her curiously, remaining as still as she, its leer never wavering. Nora stared back, worried that if she moved even the slightest, it would pounce on her next. It shifted, growing taller than her seated form, and she followed it with her eyes. It peered down at her still, as if waiting for her next move, although she planned on making none at this point. Ever so slowly, its eyes began to close, going from half lidded to slits to, finally, fully closed, disappearing in the shadows.

Nora bolted, backpack forgotten as she leapt through the open doorway and down the porch steps. She snatched her bike up off of the ground and mounted it, taking off down the gravel road as fast as she could. She didn't stop or slow down until she reached her house, tossing the bike on the grass and racing up the front steps and bursting through her front door, slamming it shut and collapsing on the floor. She began to sob hysterically, hiccupping uncontrollably as she brought her knees up to her chest, clinging to her legs like a lifeline. Her father barreled into the living room at hearing the commotion, freezing as he bore witness to his daughter's distress. He cautiously knelt down in front of her, coaxing her to calm down, to take a deep breath and tell him what had happened. She struggled to catch her breath, looking up at him through teary eyes and opening her mouth.

She threw up on the carpet.


	5. 05

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, first of all, I would like to apologize for the long wait for this chapter. You know how it is, retail and the holiday season just do not mix well, plus I got sick between that. Secondly, thank you guys so much for giving this fic a chance! I never expected so much love for this, every new read and kudos left makes me happier than you can imagine! But guys, don't be shy to drop a comment or two! I would love to hear your feedback, especially if there's something I do in my writing that either you really like or cannot stand. Even just a comment to say hey works for me!
> 
> Anyway, enjoy chapter 5, and I will try to get 6 out faster than this one!

Nora sat at her kitchen table, a mug of steaming hot chocolate warming her hands that were cupped around it. She didn't like coffee, and although it was too warm out for the heated beverage, she appreciated the sentiment behind it. It remained untouched, the real comfort being the warmth that radiated off of it. Her eyes vacantly watched the curls of steam rise above the liquid, vanishing in translucent wisps. The crackling of the officer's radio alerted her to the approaching man, his belt clanging with his every step. The heavy footfalls of his work boots stopped beside her, the jarring squeal of the chair's legs as it scraped along the tile floor breaking the silence of the room as he sat himself in the seat perpendicular to her. The noise didn't even cause her to flinch.

"Alright, honey," the officer began in a gruff voice, grunting as he adjusted himself in his seat. Her eyes briefly flashed over to him, taking in his rounded beer belly and thick, gray mustache. He had a receding hairline, the top of his bald head gleaming brightly from the fluorescent kitchen lights. Her gaze drifted down to his nametag, 'Morales' engraved in the golden plate. She realigned her vision to the mug in her hands. "Now I just want you to walk me through what happened one more time."

Her grip on the mug tightened. "I already told you what happened, three times," Nora huffed, shutting her eyes tightly.

"Now now, sugar, no need to get hostile," Officer Morales assured, raising his hands in surrender. "There are just some things that we aren't quite understanding. We just want to make sure we have the full story." He paused, his eyes boring into the side of her head. "The _real_ story," he added, an almost condescending undertone lying in his voice.

Nora glowered at her hot chocolate, which was quickly growing cold. "I told you, I was being chased by these three boys. I ran inside the Neibolt house, but they followed me in and pinned me to the floor. And then we all heard this noise, like someone else was in the house," she deadpanned, growing numb from retelling the story so many times. It had only happened two hours ago, but already it felt like a dream. As she continued with her retelling of the events, her expression grew vacant again, reliving the almost unreal occurrence. "One of the boys, they called him Spade, went to go check it out," she trailed off, shutting her eyes as the memory of his scream echoed in her ears. "He never came back."

"And that's when the other boy, ah," the officer piped up, rifling through his notes quickly, "Jeremy, that's when Jeremy went to investigate?"

She nodded, removing her hands to fold her arms tightly against her chest. After she had made her way home, babbling on about something taking three boys, her father had sat her at the kitchen table, grabbed her a towel and some pants, and proceeded to call the police. While they had waited for them to arrive, he cleaned her vomit from the floor and tried to get her to calmly tell him what had happened. She hadn't really had the energy to put on the pair of pants that hung on the back of her chair, her button up shirt still undone and hanging off her form like a curtain.

When she didn't continue, Officer Morales softly prompted her to, "And then what happened?"

Taking in a shaky breath, Nora picked back up where she left off. "Then the other boy, he went by Ro, he and I waited for Jeremy to come back. We waited for some kind of sign that he was okay. But instead, there was this bang, and we heard him shout. And that's when we started to run, but whatever it was, it got him, started to drag him into the hallway. I..." her voice began to quiver, fresh tears prickling her eyes. She took a steadying breath, swallowing around the lump in her throat. "I tried to... to pull him back, but, whatever it was, it was stronger than me. It pulled him in, and it...it..." she trailed off again, her bottom lip trembling as she fought the tears that threatened to fall.

"It what, darlin'?" the officer probed, watching her carefully.

Nora leaned back in her chair, dropping her hands in her lap. After calming herself enough to speak, she turned to the man next to her, locking eyes with him. "It sounded like it was _eating_ him."

Officer Morales sat back in his own chair, eying her carefully. His fingers drummed thoughtfully on the kitchen table before he spoke again. "What do you reckon took 'em?"

She tilted her head back to the ceiling, wiping away the few tears that slipped from her eyes. "I don't know," she sighed, running her fingers over her hair. "Logically I would say it was some animal, maybe a wild dog or coyote or something. But the truth is, I have no idea what that thing was." Nora looked back at the cop. "Whatever it was, it looked at me like a person would look at another human being. It was like it _knew_ me." Watching for the man's reaction, she followed up her statement with, "And if that's the case, there's a murderer in the Neibolt house."

The officer narrowed his eyes at her before excusing himself and exiting the room. Nora sighed deeply and reached for her hot chocolate, taking a sip from the lukewarm liquid. She knew he didn't believe her, it was clear from the unconvinced expression on his face every time she retold her story. Although she wasn't sure why; a wild animal is the most likely of explanations, a murderer a bit farther of a stretch, but still believable. Perhaps it was the sheer absurdity of it all, not only the tale of the taking of three local boys, but also her accusation of attempted rape on account of all three of them. Especially with her reputation.

A moment later the officer returned, her father trailing closely behind. He took the seat across from Officer Morales as he reclaimed his seat beside her. "Alright, now I just wanted to sit you both down and discuss some things," he began, leaning forward and folding his hands on the tabletop. "Now Mr. Lane, I'm assuming your daughter has already told you what happened to her this afternoon, yes?" When he nodded, he continued, "Right. Now I need you two to understand, these accusations and tales of murder are both very serious claims, and if they are proven false, there will be very negative repercussions." His eyes narrowed at Nora. " _Legal_ repercussions."

Nora furrowed her brow. Before she could spew out an insult, Robert Lane rushed to respond first. "We're aware of the severity of the situation, but there wouldn't be any reason to worry unless you and your fellow officers thought my daughter was lying, right?" He eyed the officer suspiciously, his hand sliding across the table to rest beside his daughter's.

He remained silent, his calculating eyes watching the two thoughtfully. He sat back in his chair. "We wouldn't say that she was lying..."

"You think I'm not telling the truth," Nora filled in, her glare turned icy.

"Now sweetheart, you have to understand, you're accusin' not one, but three boys of attempted rape, and conveniently none are here to tell their side of the story, because some animal or murderer dragged them away inside that old, abandoned house down on Neibolt Street, which no one has lived in for ages," Officer Morales explained calmly, leveling Nora with a placating stare.

"Now wait just a minute," Robert cut in, leaning in toward the man. "You're not implying that my little girl killed those boys, are you?"

"All I'm saying is there is no evidence of what you're telling us, other than your word, which to be frank, dear, is not enough to launch an investigation."

An aggravated huff left Nora's lips, her fingers tightening around the cup in her hands. "Then why don't you just send someone out there to see for themselves?" she demanded, anger coursing through her veins.

"That's why I've sat you both down," he answered grimly, his eyes darting briefly to her father before locking back on her. "We sent a couple squad cars out to the location, and they informed me that there was no one inside of the Neibolt house, nor any sign of anyone stepping foot inside the building, either."

The room fell silent, the officer's revelation sinking in her brain. She could feel her father's eyes on her, although she continued to stare at the officer beside her. "But..." she began, confusion lacing her tone, "Their bikes were in the yard..." Officer Morales shook his head and told her there were nothing but weeds in front of the house. Another thought occurred to her. "My backpack!" she exclaimed, straightening in her seat. "I left it there when I ran away! It... I threw it when Jeremy tackled me. It was about five feet away from where I was pinned to the floor," Nora stared at the man hopefully, relieved that she knew for sure that there was at least one piece of evidence, of truth to her story.

"Nora," Officer Morales sighed - it was the first time he had used her name, "they searched every room. There was nothing in that house."

 

* * *

 

Nora was perched on the couch, curled in a ball beneath the throw blanket she had dragged down from her bedroom. The living room was dark, the only light illuminating her form came from the television her vacant eyes remained glued to. A dark haired reporter was listing off the latest missing children of Derry. Three familiar faces flashed on the screen, along with the names belonging to each boy. Jeremy DeBois, Roland Peters, and Isaac Spater, none of which returned home last night. Her view was briefly blocked as her father passed, handing her a plate with peanut butter toast and gently placing a glass of chocolate milk on the coffee table in front of her. He took a step to the side, eying the television himself as he took a sip from his steaming coffee. Gesturing toward the TV, he asked, "That them?"

She nodded distractedly, nibbling on the toast he had presented her with. After providing the audience with the local police department's phone number, the reporter moved on to less breaking news. She heard her father hum thoughtfully before stepping out of the room. The sounds of him rustling around in the kitchen floated into the room, the jingling of his car keys echoing in her ears. He reemerged a few minutes later, announcing his departure as he passed by her on the couch. Her fingers gripped his hand tightly, halting his steps and capturing his gaze. Her eyes burned intensely into his own, her grip on him tightening. He turned to face her, leaning down and, after a moment of hesitation, placing a soft kiss to her forehead like he used to when she was a little girl.

"I'll leave my cell on so you can call me whenever you want, okay?" he comforted her, gazing at her soothingly. She nodded, reluctantly letting go of his hand as he moved to take a step back. He threw an 'I love you!' over his shoulder before shutting the front door behind him. She mumbled her response into her toast, taking another bite as her gaze landed back on the television screen.

Once she finished her breakfast and decided she couldn't watch another second of the local news, Nora forced herself upstairs to shower. She threw on her favorite pair of black skinny jeans, large slits marring the thighs of her pants in jagged tears. Tossing a white t-shirt over her head that had the phrase 'Save Ferris' in simple text across the chest and pulling on her worn combat boots, she headed back into the bathroom to blow dry her hair, putting half of it up into a top knot. Grabbing her house key and exiting the house as well, locking the door on her way out, she mounted her bike and took off down the street. She pedaled leisurely, taking her time in reaching her destination to calm her nerves. The thought of entering that house alone made her anxiety spike, but she had to know, to see for herself that what that officer said was true. As she neared the house, her heart sank.

There were no bikes in the front yard.

Slowing to a stop at the opening in the aging fence, she searched the tall grass for any sign of the boys' bikes, but her eyes only found the yellowing weeds surrounding the house. A frown settled over her mouth, because she knew that they had discarded them beside her own, had seen them when she fled the house. Her gaze drifted upward toward the house that loomed above her. Locking her kickstand in place, she dismounted her bicycle and cautiously stepped up the decaying porch steps, standing before the front door with her heart pounding in her chest. She would only pop in to see if she could locate her backpack, and then she would leave. She could do this.

With a shaky breath, Nora pushed open the door, its rusted hinges squealing in protest the entire way. Light filtered in through the doorway, illuminating particles of dust in the rays of sunlight. Her eyes scanned the interior of the house, both in search of her forgotten backpack as well as the thing that she encountered the day prior. Finding neither, she took a tentative step inside, the floorboards creaking beneath her weight. The house remained silent as she made her way inside, save for the occasional groan of the wood when she stepped on a particularly weak spot. Now that she could take a proper look around, she noted that the room she stood in appeared to be the living room, although not much furniture still resided in the ancient house. Her eyes landed on a staircase off in the corner, its railing cracked in random places. She craned her neck to peer up to the second story, but all she could really see was a canopy of cobwebs glowing in the small beams of sunlight streaming through the house's many broken windows. Her journey through the area continued, taking a wide route past the dark hall, careful to avoid the opening that beckoned to her ominously. She peeked into the next room, what looked to be a dining room, in search of her missing backpack. Judging from the spot that Jeremy had tackled her, the trajectory her bag had taken should have landed it in here. But she couldn't find it, the olive green of the bag eluding her searching eyes. She stood in the room, her mind racing as her thoughts began to jumble. Had she imagined the whole thing? No, there was no way she could have made it all up, no reason for her to. Besides, if she had made it up, then where the hell was her backpack?

As if answering her question, a muffled _thwump_ sounded from the other room, jolting her from her thoughts and causing her to jump in her spot. Whirling around in alarm, her eyes darted about the room frantically, coming up empty in their search for the source of the noise. Her heart rate picked up, palms becoming slick as sweat seeped from her skin, her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides. Swallowing around the lump that had formed in her throat, Nora took a wary step back into the living room, her wide eyes scanning the room carefully. She glanced to her left and froze.

Beside the staircase sat her backpack.

Her eyes darted over toward the hallway, an uneasiness settling in beneath her skin. Even with all the sunlight seeping into the house, she still couldn't make out any details within the shadowy depths. She focused back on to the bag, sucking in a shaky breath and taking an anxious step forward. The backpack remained still, perched innocently on the dirty floor like a present waiting to be opened. She never knew something so innocuous could be so intimidating. The floorboards creaked as she made her way toward the bag, caution laced in every step. When the toes of her boots were mere centimeters away from the bag, she stood motionless as she stared at it, as if expecting something to pop out from the inside.

"It's not very nice to break in to someone's home."

The voice sent her head snapping upward, her gaze spiraling up the winding staircase to land on the very strange looking man leering down at her, a lazy grin stretched across his mouth. What a very strange looking man, indeed. His face was painted white, his lips a deep red that sickeningly reminded her of blood, the corners of which curled upward as two lines a similar shade of red ran up his cheeks, breaking off beneath his oddly charming blue eyes, only to continue above them to end where his brow protruded. A pair of pencil thin eyebrows sat poised high up on his abnormally large forehead, raised in an almost villainous arch. Fiery red hair sat atop his head in three signature wispy curls, giving him an unsettling resemblance to a cartoon infant. His outfit was just as strange, a graying costume that had definitely seen better days. It was ridiculously puffy, his collar and sleeves equally ruffled. Striped tights fit snugly along his long legs, a pair of maroon and white laced boots, each adorned with a single large red pompom on the toe. Matching pompoms dotted the front of the man's costume, and it was then that she realized that this man was dressed as some bizarre clown, the red tip of his nose confirming this assumption. His chin rested leisurely in his hand, gloved in white satin, his other arm draped along the railing he leaned against.

"U-Um..." Nora stuttered, her hands tangling in the hem of her t-shirt. Her wide eyes were glued to the mysterious man.

His grin widened. "Twice, for that matter." His voice unnerved her even more than his appearance, the gritty tone both gruff and high pitched, childlike and yet almost demonic as he spoke.

Her brow furrowed. Twice...? Realization settled in and her gaze widened. "Yesterday... that was you?" she asked carefully, taking a cautious step forward. A low, rumbling hum echoed down the staircase toward her, a confirmation to her question. She thought of her next words carefully. "I..." she gulped, gripping the hem of her shirt tightly. "I wanted to thank you."

The man eyed her curiously, his blue eyes following her every move as she slowly made her way to the bottom of the rotting stairs. As she lifted a foot to begin her ascent, he offered a warning growl. "Careful, dear. Wouldn't want to end up like your... _friends._ "

"You won't hurt me," Nora claimed confidently, matching the strange man's gaze.

"Oh? And why not?" he asked, amused by her statement.

"Well," she continued, placing her hand on the cracked railing, "you wouldn't have let me go if you had planned to."

The clown chuckled, his eyes boring into her own intensely. A catlike grin stretched across his painted face. "Maybe I'm biding my time."

He shifted slightly on the floor above her, disturbing the tiny bells sewn into his costume. The soft tinkling floated down to her, ringing in her ears and bringing forth a recent memory. She parted her lips and confessed, "I think I dreamt of you."

Something flashed in the man's eyes, too quick for her to decipher, however if she had had the time, she would have noticed it was anger. However in the blink of an eye that easy smile was plastered on his face once more and one of his exaggeratedly arched brows raised even higher. "How flattering," he mused, tapping his index finger against his temple. The two stared each other down for a few more moments before the clown nodded toward the forgotten bag on the floor. "It'd be rude not to accept my gift, girl," he announced, briefly bringing her gaze to the bag once more. When she glanced back up at the man, he encouraged her. "Go on. Take. It." The emphasis on the 'T' was sharp in her ears. She peered back down at the bag, stepping round the stairs and stooping down to swipe it off of the floor. It felt as it should, the weight normal in her hands. Nora turned back to thank the odd man once more, but the gratitude she wished to bestow caught in her throat. The banister the man was perched upon moments ago now sat barren, the ridiculous clown nowhere to be found.

She didn't remember the ride home, most likely running on autopilot as she pedaled her way back to her street and climbed the front porch steps, unlocking the door to let herself in. The trek up the steps to her bedroom was vague, her legs numbly carrying her into her bedroom and dropping her onto her bed, where she now sat, her eyes glued to the olive tint of the backpack seated before her. Her lungs inhaled a deep breath as she reached forward and flipped the top flap open, holding her breath as she half expected something to leap out at her. When nothing came forth, she dragged the bag toward her and rifled through the contents, pulling out her cell phone that was demanding to be charged, her wireless speakers, towel, and shorts. As she went to pull out the remaining garment of clothing, something sharp pricked her finger, eliciting a squeak of surprise and pain. Her hand retreated, green eyes inspecting the flesh for any tears or oozing blood. Finding none, she tentatively reached inside again, this time her fingertips brushing along the rough material of corded rope. Gripping on to the band, she pulled the item from her backpack, freezing as something familiar dangled in front of her face.

A simple shark tooth, strung around a single necklace of rope.


End file.
